Orv Monson is a jokester. He is 87 years old, but he describes himself as 11 going on 88. His favorite hobbies include guitar, harmonica, ham radio and traveling to the senior center by shuttle bus every day accompanied by his friend Elsie.

“(I come) to the building I’m in right now and they let me in here, whether they want me or not,” he said with a wry smile to Staci Guirsch, a senior aide.

Not all memories have been good for Monson. He fought on the shores of Omaha during the D-Day offensive of World War II as part of the 467th Anti Aircraft battalion with the 29th Infantry division. His recruiter had called him crazy for choosing to enter the Army over the Navy, but 22-year-old Monson told the man he didn’t want to be stuck on a boat for such a long time.

On the first day of the Normandy invasion, June 6 1944, Monson lost 47 friends. During the day, they fought; at night, they were surrounded by the sounds of shelling from the naval ships, Texas, Arkansas and Nevada. He fell into silence and teared up at the memory.

“That was not good days,” he said. “I don’t want to go into it too much. It’s not a pleasant thing remembering all the people that died.

“I hope none of these air war things, a war like that, happens again.”

Monson was born in Wallace, S.D., in the early 1920s. He stayed in the Midwest until he was enlisted into the military for the war effort.

His time on the European front took him across that continent, from England, to France, Belgium, Holland and the Slavic region. For two months following the German surrender and ceasefire, Monson lived in reconstruction Munich, where he was in charge of a military laundry.

“People—the civilians in the city—wanted to come in to get their clothes washed and we couldn’t let them,” he said. “It was hard after the war during the reconstruction. There were people in the cities who didn’t have food, homes, a place to wash their clothes, and we didn’t have enough to help them with everything and help ourselves.”

His enlistment finished, Monson came back to the states on a sea voyage fraught with poor weather conditions and British cuisine, but he was at least $20 richer from selling his military-issue cigarettes to some French locals.

He quickly departed the New York docks to move to Cheyenne, Wyoming. He had an air traffic control license from his time in the Army and his uncle got him a job with United Airlines. A year later, he moved to Seattle seeking air traffic work at the new Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. He worked at the airport for 26 years.

In 1950, he met his wife Muriel and they had three children: two daughters and a son. He and his family lived in Seattle during that time.

“(The city) was very…” he said, pausing to think of the right word. “…not well to do. It wasn’t like it is now, that’s for sure. I keep telling the other old people around the center—and this isn’t a very popular view—that things are too built up. Nowadays, my thought is there is too many things to buy or get. When I was a little boy in South Dakota I had a little wheelbarrow my dad made me and that was it.”

Monson and his family stayed within the state, save for a brief stint in San Francisco working for the international airport.

They moved back to Washington and settled in the Bonney Lake area, where Monson has stayed. One of his children moved to Arizona and the remaining two live within an hour’s drive. His wife passed away seven years ago.

Today he spends his time traveling daily to the senior center, playing guitar or harmonica, which other members occasionally ask him to teach.

He is also a licensed ham radio operator, which allows him to connect with other broadcasters around the world, including acquaintances from the war who still live in France and Belgium.

“When I’m quiet and alone around my place, I try and find someone around the world to talk to,” he said. “I start hollering at anyone who will talk to me. It’s a very good hobby, I think. Ham radio operators are able to talk to other operators as if they were right there in the room with them.

“I used to hear from some of my friends in other countries, from back in the war. There aren’t too many of us left, so it’s good to come across them when I have the chance.”

Monson summed up his life philosophy simply:

“I’ve enjoyed life,” he said. “I had a good life. I’m glad for what I’ve got. I don’t have too much religion, but I have some religion. It’s worked for me.”